


The Great Escape

by ipanicdaily



Series: The Life and Times of Anthony Stark: Family Man [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Babyfic, Fluff, M/M, Nudity, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-12
Updated: 2012-06-12
Packaged: 2017-11-07 13:21:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/431634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ipanicdaily/pseuds/ipanicdaily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Um, he’s…” Clint snorted. “Your kid’s buckass nude, Stark.” </i>
</p>
<p>In which Peter is 18 months old and Steve threatens someone</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Great Escape

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the _The Life and Times of Anthony Stark: Family Man_ series verse. They don't have to be read in any special order. I just love writing kidfics.

There was a laundry list of reasons why Tony didn’t spend much time in public. The first and most obvious was the fact that he simply didn’t leave his lab much. Between his own research, keeping up with Stark Industries, and developing half-ass shit for S.H.I.E.L.D. (which, sadly, was still greatly superior to anything else out there), he just didn’t have the time for much else.

Then there was the whole issue of paparazzi. The lowlifes that had nothing better to do than sit in bushes and take pictures of him eating Schwarma, _what the fuck even_. Of course, paparazzi came with the job description for being famous – something Tony had a lock on. The billionaire son of the world’s leading weapon’s manufacturer that, through his own genius, single-handedly revolutionized energy, and happened to be a technological mastermind as well.

And to top it all off, he was dating (and hopelessly, ridiculously in love with) America’s golden poster child who was nearly a century old yet didn’t look a day over 25. Take that, Joan Rivers, and all that useless anti-aging bullshit. 

Tony hated public places. Especially when – 

“This is why I suggested a leash!” Tony snapped.

“You don’t put kids on leashes, Tony!” Steve bit back. “It’s immoral!”

“If it was immoral they wouldn’t sell them!” His sunglasses smacked against his head as he ran. “They have animal ones that hug kids!” Tony got annoyed with the glasses and chucked them into the grass. 

“Can we argue about this some other time please?” Steve sighed, stopping and looking around.

Tony, pausing beside the man, leaned forward to catch his breath. “You _had_ to take him out of the stroller,” he panted, glaring sideways at Steve.

“It’s a park! They’re made for kids to run around and play!”

“Yeah, except this is _Central Park_. One of the most populated areas in one of the most populated cities! Do you even know how big this place is?! It’s huge, Steve. He could be-“

“Will you two stop bickering already and get a move on?” came the angry buzz in both their ears. “If the press catch wind of this you’ll lose the kid for good.” Natasha reminded.

“You,” Tony pointed at Steve, “Are sleeping on the couch tonight.” He took a deep breath and started moving across the open field again. 

Steve rolled his eyes, knowing Tony never actually meant that when he threated to boot Steve from the bed – there were at least a dozen spare beds if he ever actually did, anyway – and set off after Tony.

There was fear behind the anger of the whole situation. Not just the fear of the government denying the adoption application before they could pick up the pen, but the genuine fear of something bad happening. The sheer panic of something bad happening.

The only time Tony had been freaking out this much was when he woke up in a cave, hooked up to a car battery. Somehow, this felt a million times worse. 

“Barton!” Tony called through their comm system when his rapidly searching eyes didn’t spot anything. He was blinded with fear.

“I’m looking, Stark,” came the blunt reply. “There’s only a fuckton of people around.”

“You say you’re the best there is, Barton, so it’d be excelled if you’d live up to the gloating,” Tony sniped. “It’s your job to see what everyone else can’t – to see the impossible. Do your damn job or don’t come within a hundred feet of me again if you want to live.”

“Tony!” Steve chided, giving him a stern look.

“Back off Clint, Stark, or you’ll be the one six feet under,” Natasha followed with a cold seriousness they’d all come to fear in the recent years.

“Everyone _shut the hell up_ and focus on finding the kid!” Bruce practically yelled, the connection falling quickly silent. 

Tony gave a loud frustrated noise that warranted a few looks (more than were already given as it’s not every day one sees Tony Stark and Captain America bounding through Central Park) and Steve wove in front of Tony; stopping him by grabbing his shoulders firmly. “Calm down,” Steve said, voice softened and face that weird balance of worried-warm-determination that only Steve could pull off.

Tony tried to fight him off but Steve was a lot stronger and kept him in place. “Tony, you’re going to over-exert yourself if you don’t calm down.”

“Excuse me for being a little stressed that my eighteen-month-old son somehow escaped into the middle of New York City!” Tony’s voice cracked.

Steve pulled him into a tight tug, kissing Tony’s head.

“We’re going to find him, Tony,” Steve said. “And we’ll take him home and never let him leave the tower again until he’s thirty. Maybe older.”

“You don’t-“

“I _do_ ,” Steve cut him off. “He’s okay, Tony. And we’re going to find him.”

“I got a visual!” Clint suddenly burst and Tony instantly pulled back from Steve. “Fountain!” 

They were both running before the second syllable. 

“Is he okay?” Tony demanded, weaving around the people in his way.

“Yeah, he’s…”

“He’s what?!” Tony growled.

“Um, he’s…” Clint snorted. “Your kid’s buckass nude, Stark.” 

Out of all the things Tony could have been told, those words gave him a flash of relief. Missing clothes were a hell of a lot better than missing anything else. 

Tony practically leaped over the stairs and to the fountain, spotting the boy near a group of musicians – clapping happily off-beat and wiggling in attempted dance. He barely stopped moving before he was sweeping Peter into his arms and holding the small body close against his own. “Thank god you’re okay,” he exhaled, hand pressing into the back of Peter’s head.

Steve caught up and pulled them both close, squeezing Tony’s shoulder and kissing Peter as well. “For a baby, you’re pretty darn fast,” he told the boy who was incredibly unfazed by what was going on. 

When Tony eased up enough to hold Peter out for observation, ignoring the large grin that was facing him from the child, he asked, “What on earth happened to your clothes?” because there wasn’t a single item left on – not the sneakers (which were laced!) or the diaper or _anything_. And in running through half the park, Tony didn’t recall seeing any of the clothes anywhere.

“Papa dance!” Peter proclaimed, hands slapping together more.

“Yeah, no,” Tony scoffed, bringing the boy to his side to hold him better. “Papa’s busy having a heart attack right now.”

Steve rand his hand over Peter’s head. “I told you he’d be fine.” 

Tony huffed, “Still your fault,” in a low tone. 

“Kid okay?” Bruce asked.

“Peter’s fine,” Steve answered. “Thank you all for your help.”

“Anything for you, Cap,” Natasha replied. 

“Hey, head’s up, there’s a-“ Clint started quickly but the sudden bright flash finished his sentence for him. Tony instinctively pulled Peter closer, shielding and protecting him because the last thing either Tony or Steve wanted was the media going after their son. 

“Of course,” Tony sighed, closing his eyes. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Steve said, still not used to the constant attention – especially when with Tony. “Is nothing personal?” 

“C’mon, before they get more,” Tony grumbled, turning to leave.

Steve, however, strode over to the man half crouching with the camera and grabbed the strap looped around his neck, using it to pull the man to his feet. With a flick of his wrist, Steve snapped the strap, dropping the camera to the ground with enough force to cause it to snap in three places. When the man scrambled to get it, Steve put his foot on the man’s hand pinning him, squatting down to his level.

“Now, I’m not really the violent, threatening type. But I’ve been spending a rather considerable amount of time with a couple assassins and a man who’s probably pissed off every form of authority in existence, so let’s say I’ve picked up a few things.” Steve spoke calmly and firmly, much like when commanding his team in the field. “You can harass me, and you can harass Tony, but if you ever mess with my son again, getting a few quick-snaps for your tabloid trash will be the least of your worries.”

Steve picked the camera up, tossing it into the fountain knowing the man would retrieve it the moment Steve gave him his hand back, but letting the water do damage first. “And while I’m also not much of a supporter of holding things over people’s heads, I’m told my boyfriend has some very good lawyers that can get us out of just about anything, so I suggest we all just forget about this little incidence and go our merry ways, yes?” 

He stood up, foot still holding the man down as he reached into his back pocket. “I do feel bad about ruining your camera, and while I don’t agree with your chosen line of work, I do believe in the arts.” Steve pulled out a few bills and dropped them down. “Get yourself a nice new camera and try some honest photography. You’d be surprised how much you can make at that.” 

Steve let up then, the man snatching the money then fetching his camera, quickly running away in the opposite direction.

Clint’s laughter came over the comm as Steve returned to an equally amused Tony. “I think you made him piss himself, Cap,” Clint laughed. Steve reached for Peter and Tony passed him over, eyebrow arched and lips pulled into a smirk. 

“You destroyed personal property then gave him enough for better equipment because you _felt bad_ for smashing and waterlogging his camera,” Tony said as the pair casually started back towards the blanket and stroller they’d previously abandoned when Peter ran off. “You threatened someone, Rogers. You – the man who catches spiders and brings them outside rather than squish them like the rest of the world.”

Steve shrugged, settling Peter on his hip. “He threatened my family.” 

Tony, mildly shocked at the response, grabbed Steve’s free hand and laced their fingers together. “I love you,” he said with a smile and honest-to-God sincerity. 

Steve squeezed Tony’s hand, giving him a gentle smile. “I love you too.” 

They heard a muttered, “Good god,” before the comm channel went completely silent. 

Tony reached over with his free hand to take Steve’s sunglasses from his head and slip them onto Peter. “C’mon, Cap, let’s find our kid some clothes before he thinks he’s a hippy.”


End file.
